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“Bring yourselves home. I don't give a fuck about his head.” Then we moved. Outside, the night erupted with engines. Black SUVs lined the drive. Men climbed inside, armed and ready. Volken walked toward his vehicle with the calm of a man heading toward an execution he'd waited years to attend.

Lucien looked almost fucking cheerful. Draugr was silent, a murderous light in his eyes. When Draugr got quiet like that, someone was going to die. I stopped beside the first SUV and looked back toward the mansion.

Somewhere inside was Bryn, my mate, my future, my unborn child. I could feel her through the bond. She was worried, the berserker shifted beneath my skin. I didn't fight it, not completely. I needed that part of myself tonight; I just needed it leashed.

Draugr climbed behind the wheel. “You ready?” I opened the passenger door.

“I've been ready for years.”

The convoy began moving. One vehicle, then another and another. Headlights cut through the darkness as the gates opened before us. Vampires, Changelings, Brothers, Soldiers. All were carrying weapons, all carrying grudges, all moving toward the same man. The excitement in the vehicles wasn't loud. Nobody celebrated. Nobody shouted. It was worse than that, it was anticipation. The kind that came when predators finally smelled the end of a long hunt.

Draugr glanced sideways at me. “Tonight.” I looked through the windscreen, my knife resting across my thigh.

“Tonight.”

Behind us, the other vehicles followed into the darkness. And for the first time since we'd started hunting Ceasar, I didn't feel like we were chasing him. I felt like we were closing a noose.

Chapter 16

By four in the morning, none of us were pretending anymore. Something was wrong. Not necessarily wrong wrong. No phone call. No frantic message. No guards suddenly rushing through the mansion. But the men had been gone since shortly after sunset, and every hour that passed tightened another knot in my stomach.

They were supposed to have been home by two. At least, that was what Viking had told me. Two at the latest, beautiful. It was now 4:07, and my vampire was nowhere to be seen.

I sat curled into the corner of the enormous sofa in the family room, one hand resting protectively over my stomach while the other held a mug of tea that had gone cold nearly an hour ago. I wasn't alone. None of us had gone to bed. Runa sat on the rug with one of the children asleep against her chest, little fingers curled into the fabric of her cardigan. Sorcha occupied the opposite end of the sofa, though occupied was generous. She had spent the last twenty minutes getting up, walking to the window, remembering that the men had forbidden us from lingering near windows after the shooting, swearing under her breath, and sitting down again. Layla sat in an armchair with her son sprawled across her lap. She looked composed. Mostly. But I'd started learning these women. Layla twisted her wedding ring when she was anxious. She'd been twisting it for nearly an hour.

The mansion was quiet around us, but not sleeping. It never truly slept anymore. Guards moved through corridors. Radios crackled occasionally. Footsteps sounded from somewhere upstairs. Outside, security teams patrolled the grounds beneath powerful lights that swept across the lawns and tree line. A month ago, that level of security would have terrified me. Now it was background noise. That realization was probably something I should examine at some point. Just not tonight.

“Mommy?”

A small sleepy voice broke the silence. Layla immediately looked down. Her little boy blinked up at her, dark hair mussed from sleep.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Is Daddy home?”

Something passed across Layla's face, gone almost immediately.

“Yes, baby. But he’s busy.”

“Why?”

“Daddy's working.”

“So late?”

Sorcha looked away. Runa's hand continued moving gently up and down the sleeping child's back. Layla smiled.

“You know Daddy sometimes has to work late.”

Her son frowned with the intense seriousness only a child could manage. “Is he fighting bad people?”

The room went completely still. Layla's fingers stopped moving. I watched her carefully. She didn't lie. Not exactly.

“Daddy and your uncles are making sure the bad people can't come here.”

The little boy considered that, then apparently accepted it. “Daddy always wins.” Layla's smile trembled.

“Yes.” She bent and kissed her son's forehead. “He does.”